E P H E M E R A L
by Nobody Knows o-o
Summary: "Panacea Lilt; but you can call me Pana." - She's eight years old and lost in the deadly world of the future, unable to escape the gruesome terror of the Hunger Games. The rules are simple; tread carefully and you might just survive. Then again, as the old saying goes, rules were meant to be broken.


Don't be afraid, it's the price we pay  
_The only easy day was yesterday._

* * *

"_Eeeeeeeep!" _

That shriek? Yeah, that was me. At the moment, I'm hanging from the ceiling fan, trying not to fall and simultaneously flatten the five people below me. They're wearing uniforms with white and blue, each one with a different hair color and expressions of absolute frustration and fury painting their faces. If I didn't know better, I'd think they were angry at me!

One of them tries to lunge forward and catch the back of my booted foot, but I scurry farther upwards on the fan (it's huge!) and try to avoid mister Blue Hair and his buddies. This isn't the first time I've gotten myself into trouble, but I can honestly say this is the most bizarre situation ever. You see, I've got absolutely no idea where I am. One minute my mum is driving me to the hospital because of this insanely large bump I got by falling down the stairs, and the next minute I'm waking up in the on a train. Yeah, I said it, a train. It isn't just any train either. It's lavishly decorated with about a million rooms and closets and etcetera. The fan, however, was the closest thing I could grab onto before the 'Peacekeepers' came. At least, that's what they call themselves.

"Get down here, kid!" One of them has finally had enough of my fooling around, apparently. His face is red, matching the color of his hair. It would've been funny if he wasn't pointing a gun at my person.

"Nuh-uh!" I shout back, my pale face twisting into a grimace. He gives me a sneer that sends me scrambling backwards, almost falling off the edge of the fan.

"Get. Down."

And suddenly I'm very scared for my life; since he's just clicked off the safety flip of his gun. He makes to take aim, but before he can shoot, a hand wraps around his arm and yanks it back. The bullet ricochet's off the walls and comes to a stop as it impales itself into the nearest vase. I wince involuntarily. The object looked _really _expensive.

"You tryin' to kill us all?" The man who grabbed Red Head's gun slurs his words together, but that's what I make out. He's obviously drunk. Red lowers his gun and glares in his direction, but the guy doesn't seem even slightly phased.

"Haymitch –" Red tries, but is interrupted by the other man in question.

"That's _Mister Haymitch _to you, punk."

I smile. I can't help myself. This 'Haymitch' guy is not only wasted, he's also funny in some grim sense of the word. He turns to me and my eyes widen in surprise. I was wrong. He _isn't _wasted, just pretending, though he's obviously taken a long drink from the liquor bottle in his hand before coming in here to make it believable.

"Look, kid, jus' 'cus ye got reaped doesn't mean you should go ballistic." He pops the 'B' and the 'C' with his lips and then begins half laughing half hiccuping. He leans forward and gives me an amused smirk. "After all, it's an honor to die for your country."

My heart drops into my stomach. Die? Ha! I don't have any intention of 'dying' for any country, whether it's mine _or _his. I open my mouth to tell him he can forget it, but something in his eyes makes me think again. He's giving me a chance, and he's expecting me to take it.

So I do.

"Sorry," I say. He grunts, and I continue. "Could you… help me…?"

I'm not sure if this is the right thing to say, but I don't think before I speak. He nods and grabs my shoulder roughly, propelling me forward and away from the haggle of Peacekeepers. They look relatively stunned. Blue and Red try to grab hold of me again, but Haymitch gives them the evil eye and spits out a few cuss words that leave them with their mouths hanging open. I only come up to his elbow. At eight years old, I'm so young and small and fragile. But I can run faster than anyone – even the Peacekeepers. I know I'm adorable, cute, maybe even pretty at this age, but the Peacekeepers aren't impressed enough with this to leave me alone. The looks they give me make it clear that they definitely still want to rip out my intestines for embarrassing the lot of them.

I only grin at the idiots and continue to skip along after Haymitch, who is steadily downing the rest of the alcohol in the bottle.

"So, kid," he grunts out, and I know immediately that he expects me to explain. My face falls and I grimace, wrapping a bit of dark brown hair around my finger. I really don't want to tell him anything, because I don't _know _what happened or why I'm here. All I know is that the injury I had on my head is gone completely.

"Dunno," I finally mutter. He frowns at me, but I think he really is wasted now; a little too drunk to reprimand me.

"Katniss has a sister," he grumbles to himself. "Peeta's good with kids. You can stay with them. How old are you?"

"Eight." I hold up eight fingers so he can count for himself. He tries to focus, but then he just laughs again.

"Can't count in this state, sweetheart. I'll take your word for it."

"I might be lying," I say speculatively.

"I highly doubt that."

"Yeah, I'm not a good liar."

Haymitch turns to me and frowns even deeper than before. "That's too bad."

Where other adults have always told me it was good, he has told me it's bad. Somehow, this gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I believe him. He's obviously the expert. Finally, after walking in and around rooms and tables and various furniture, we reach a door that says 'TWELVE' in big letters on the front. Haymitch pushes it open and drops the bottle on the floor, collapsing into the nearest couch.

"Who's there – Oh, Haymitch!"

The voice is high pitched and I wince inwardly at the sight in front of me. A tall woman with light pink hair and about two tons of makeup caking her face gives me the equivalent of a smile (though I can barely tell under all that blush and lipstick).

"Hello," I say politely. Haymitch doesn't do anything but grimace and stick his face in a pillow, like he's trying not to vomit.

"Ah! What a cute little thing! I'm Effie Trinket, dearest. Where did you come from?"

"From the car."

She scrunches up her eyebrows at my reply. "The… car? There aren't any cars here, dear. How in the world –"

"I'm telling you," I insist indignantly. "I came from a car! My mum, she was driving and –"

"No, no." Effie interrupts. "I'm sure you're just tired. Let's see… what District do you live in?"

"California."

"…what?"

"California," I repeat. "I live in California."

"Ah… I… see…"

"Eff off," Haymitch gripes from the couch.

Effie gasps at the way he twists her name into an insult, and I fruitlessly try to hide a smile.

"Ahem," she clears her throat and looks down at me. "I'm afraid this train hasn't much room for a little one like you, so we had better –"

"Better what?" Haymitch grumbles. "Kill her?"

Effie's eyes widen to the size of baseballs. "Eh! No!"

"I'll hide," I assure her. "I'm good at hiding! No one will find me."

Before I can take another step, however, the door slides open again and two other kids – one boy, one girl – walk into the room. The girl looks resigned, uncomfortable even, but the boy is shifting slightly and I can tell he's thinking hard about something. Haymitch lifts his head from the couch and glares at them as if they're his personal enemies – or maybe he's just angry because he can't tell if there are two or four of them, what with how drunk he is.

"Well hello there, Krackness and Pitta."

"It's Katniss,"

"It's Peeta."

Both the boy and the girl talk at the same time, and give each other sheepish looks at the end of it – though I can tell the girl is trying to hide her embarrassment behind a stony expression. Suddenly, they spot me standing there beside Effie.

"Who's this?" the girl – Katniss, I think – asks.

"This is… this… is…" Effie turns to me and raises her eyebrows a bit, indicating that I should introduce myself. Haymitch is all ears too.

I smile and clasp my small hands in front of me, blowing a wisp of air away from my freckled face.

"Panacea Lilt; but… you can call me Pana."

* * *

_A/N: The lyrics are 'We Are One' by 12 Stones. Some of the stuff might not have happened in the book - but remember, Pana is here now, so the future and the present are changing because of her presence. There's no guarantee how the games will turn out. I'm still going to try and keep Katniss and Peeta and everyone else in character though, so have no fear. Let's try and get at least five reviews for this chapter, shall we? Yes! Stay tuned for the next part in the story. _


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